Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

I have no solution to this sound of pollution in me

And I was not the answer

So forget you ever thought it was me

I'm not the one who broke you

I'm not the one you should fear

We've got to move you darling

I thought I lost you out there

But you were never really there at all

And I want to get free

Talk to me

I can feel you falling

And I wanted to be

All you need

Somehow here is gone

**

"What if Dumbledore told him something that he's not telling us--"

"But he didn't--"

"You said that you thought Dumbledore had told him what to do!"

"I did. In July--things have changed a bit in case you haven't noticed, Ron."

"Oh, I've noticed," Ron returned with a quiet growl. He was ready to say more, but Harry's reappearance at the entrance of the tent immediately silenced him. He and Hermione had become rather skilled at having these rows in a whisper to make sure Harry didn't realize what was happening, but they weren't fooling anyone, least of all the Boy Who Lived.

Harry came to a jerky stop, like an awkward teenager did whenever he walked into the cafeteria and couldn't find a friend to sit with. "Hey," he said in a strangled voice.

"Hi," Hermione returned hastily. She jumped to her feet and searched the table for something to tie her hair back with. "Is it my turn for patrol?"

"It's Ron's, actually," Harry corrected. He looked pointedly at the watch he had received for his birthday. As he addressed his best friend, his voice took on a slight edge. "And you're a bit late."

Ron didn't argue, as Hermione had dreaded. He kicked back his chair, muttering something under his breath, and went to his bunk to pull on all the clothes he had so he wouldn't freeze out in the bitterly cold night. He returned to the table to retrieve his wand and hand Hermione the ponytail holder he had remembered she had tossed close to a pile of parchment. "See you," he bit out before disappearing out into the darkness to spend hours pacing and mulling over all sorts of terrible thoughts.

Hermione could hardly bear to watch him go. She had spent so little time with Ron over the past few weeks; after her refusal of his invitation, the only time they spoke was to argue about Harry's leadership. Whenever she tried to start a more amiable conversation, Ron would grunt and shuffle away to gather wood or find food. That's how Hermione knew that he was really angry with her: he actually had chosen chores over her.

But still, Hermione couldn't help defending her best friend and gave Harry a half-hearted smile. Harry and Ron had been particularly cool to each other of the past few weeks, so cool that Hermione was getting concerned that they could have similar incident as the Triwizard Tournament disaster of fourth-year. "I'm sorry he was late," Hermione apologized for Ron. "It was my fault, really, we were talking and lost track of time."

Harry didn't answer. He was getting rather sick of Hermione constantly making excuses for Ron. He nodded once and sat down at the table with her, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Ron was out of ear-shot. "Okay. We checked the orphanage."

Hermione quickly jumped in the game she and Harry had been playing twice a day, from the first day they had erected the tent: the anything but enjoyable list-everything-we-possible-know game. Ron had been an active participant for a few weeks, but after enduring one too many scowls and snide comments, Harry and Hermione had started playing only when Ron was on guard duty so they could actually maybe get something accomplished. "And it's demolished," Hermione finished for Harry.

"And he hated it there anyway," Harry said. "We think Hogwarts is out," he continued skeptically. He wouldn't be convinced that Hogwarts wasn't a hiding place until they searched the entire castle themselves which of course was impossible at the moment.

"So is Borgin and Burkes as they would be able to detect the Dark magic."

"And he had made five by the time he went to Albania, so it can't be there."

"And the snake is the sixth."

"And Nagini is with You-Know-Who," Harry supplied. It was so odd for him to say 'You-Know-Who'; he never had before, even as a child. He leaned forward to peruse the copious notes Hermione had compiled over the past few months. "So there's two more hiding places." He rested his hands on his forehead, one palm cupping over his scar. "Where are they?" he whispered.

His pupils were starting to dilate and dance wildly around the irises, as though he was frantically searching for something miles away from him. Afraid that he may be actively trying to touch Voldemort's mind again, Hermione hastened to continue. "Well, let's think about other places he hid them," Hermione said. "There was the cave."

"Where he had tortured those kids," Harry added, his gaze becoming sharp and focused once again. "Then there was the Gaunt house."

"And Lucius Malfoy had the diary," Hermione finished. She frowned as a sudden thought came to her. "Why would he give it to a person instead of a safe location?"

"Because he wanted that Horcrux to be used to reopen the Chamber of Secrets," Harry explained instantly. "Lucius Malfoy was in charge of Muggle torture so that's why he was the one who got it. He didn't know what it was. That Horcrux was different than all the others--it was the only one he didn't want to be hidden." Harry leaned back in his chair as his voice became more distant, yet more certain. "He probably even knew that it could be destroyed, but he was willing to sacrifice it if he could reopen the Chamber."

"He was willing to sacrifice a sixth of his soul just to kill a few Muggle-borns." Hermione shook her head in disgust. Sometimes, it was very difficult to fathom the depths of one man's hatred.

"We'll get him," Harry promised her, looking like a poster-boy for all-powerful heroes. "I swear."

She gave him a small smile. "I know." She really did. They may be trapped between a rock and a hard place at the moment, but this was Harry Potter they were talking about. He wouldn't give up on this until the bitter end. They just had to keep sifting through the quagmire.

Harry folded his hands on top of the table and stared down at a small nick Ron had caused when he had one time slammed his knife down after having difficulty cutting his much-too tough fish. "The diary was with Lucius because it had to be," he said slowly.

"Yes?" Hermione pressed eagerly. This was a new aspect of the game that hadn't been explored yet.

"The ring was at the Gaunt house--that was where he stole it from," Harry continued. "And the locket was put in that cave where he went from the orphanage, because his mum had sold the locket to put him in the orphanage."

"So you think that he's not only hiding the Horcruxes at places of personal attachment, it also has to do with the individual Horcruxes themselves?" Hermione asked keenly. It was certainly an interesting theory. "He got the Cup when he worked at Borgin and Burke, is there any way that it could there?"

Harry grabbed a handful of hair as he tried to think. "I dunno--maybe, maybe--maybe we should go there?"

"Diagon Alley is awfully dangerous right now, Harry," Hermione said apprehensively.

"Well, maybe it's not there," Harry said, brightening with another idea. "Maybe he stashed it somewhere in Hephzibah's house, returned it to the scene of the crime, no one would think to look there!"

"But we have no idea where she lived, Harry," Hermione reminded him somberly. "And the resources we could use to find it--"

"--aren't exactly accessible right now, yeah, you're right." Harry gave Hermione a grim look. "So just how dangerous is Diagon Alley?"

"Really dangerous," Hermione answered.

"Which would be more dangerous: Diagon Alley or getting you the books you needed to find the Smiths?"

"About equally so," Hermione theorized, biting her lip. While heading back to civilization would probably curb Ron's temper, she really wasn't sure about this. She didn't think they should go back without an absolutely foolproof plan; she was still rather shaken up from their near-capture at the Ministry.

Harry glanced at her, reading her thoughts, and blew out a breath. "Well, let me think about it; maybe I'll come up with something." He pulled Secrets of the Darkest Arts towards him so he could leaf through the pages. He had already read it twice; Hermione four times. Ron of course hadn't even touched it. "What about putting something beyond magical repair? Anything else about that?"

"No," Hermione said glumly. "We either need an object similar to the basilisk fang or perform a really advanced Dark spell that I don't think any of us are capable of."

For a long time, Harry didn't say anything; he kept his hands over his nose and mouth, elbows propped up on the table, and stared blankly ahead of him for a good long time. Hermione kept quiet herself and flicked hopelessly through the book again, trying to convince herself once again that she had missed something.

Finally, Harry slowly moved his hands aside so he could ask: "What if I got you a Dark magic book?"

The floor threatened to fall out from underneath her. "How would you do that?"

"Well," Harry gathered himself up as high as he could in his chair, "where's the best library?"

Hermione gripped his arm as though he was about to charge off to Hogwarts right now. "Harry, no."

"Hermione, we can't just sit here," Harry said in a hushed hiss. His eyes flicked over to the tent flap. "We have to get rid of that thing."

She swallowed hard, understanding Harry's unspoken statement perfectly. Ron wouldn't last much longer underneath the Horcrux's power. She too looked over to the exit of the tent, wishing with everything in her that Ron would return and suddenly be wonderful again, making jokes and stoutly supporting all of their efforts no matter what. It would make all of this so much easier.

Harry took advantage of her momentary silence to lean in earnestly. "Would Hogwarts have the books you need?"

"Restricted Section would," Hermione reported hollowly.

His eyes gleamed determinedly. "Maybe I could get in."

"You're mad," Hermione hissed at him. "Snape would take you straight to You-Know-Who--you only want to get in so you can search for a Horcrux!"

"No--I don't even know what to look for--I just--" He groaned and returned his face to his hands for a moment as the Horcrux shone triumphantly from his chest. "There are just too many maybes," he admitted exhaustedly.

Hermione patted his arm reassuringly, knowing exactly what he meant. They weren't completely lost, as Ron constantly insinuated; they had some half-formed theories, but Harry was right--there were just too many maybes in all of their speculations. If they were going to risk their lives and sneak into Hogwarts or Borgin and Burke or wherever, they had to be certain that they would find something. There wasn't very much room for mistakes in this particular quest. The slightest miscalculation would end up getting them killed.

"Give me a week to think about it," Hermione found herself telling Harry quietly, desperate to do anything to reassure him. "Try a few things, think things over." Her stomach clawed warningly at her, but Hermione went ahead and made the promise anyway; Harry was right, they couldn't just sit around here any longer. "If I can't think of anything in a week, we'll head to London to find some books and check out Borgin and Burke, all right?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed heavily. He looked at her hopefully, reminding her painfully of the curious young boy she had met on a train ages ago. "You think you can think of something?"

Despite all of her doubts, Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Maybe."

**

But thank Merlin, she didn't have to.

"The sword can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that which strengthen them--Harry, that sword's impregnated with basilisk venom!"

"And Dumbledore didn't give it to me because he still needed it, he wanted to use it on the locket--"

"--and he must have realized they wouldn't let you have it if he put it in his will--"

"--so he made a copy--"

"--and put a fake in the glass case--"

"--and he left the real one--where?"

She and Harry gazed at each other, the anticipation itching away at their insides. She could hardly contain her excitement. This was just the break they were waiting for; this wasn't a maybe, this was a fact: an absolute fact that could save them, because the second they found that sword, they could stab the living daylights out of that bloody locket that Hermione had grown to despise so fiercely. Hermione wracked her brains wildly; the sooner they found the answer, the sooner they could get on with this. "Think!" whispered Hermione, more to herself than anyone else. "Think! Where would he have left it?"

"Not at Hogwarts," said Harry, resuming his pacing as they quickly slipped into their daily game of hypothesizing at lightning speed.

"Somewhere in Hogsmeade!"

"The Shrieking Shack? Nobody ever goes in there."

"But Snape knows how to get in, wouldn't that be a bit risky?"

"Dumbledore trusted Snape."

"Not enough to tell him that he had swapped the swords."

"Yeah, you're right! So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade, then? What d'you reckon, Ron? Ron?"

Hermione turned to find Ron, thinking that in light of their unexpected triumph, he would for once be extremely eager to join in. But with a stomach-jarring wrench, she found that Ron was lying in the shadow of a lower bunk, looking stony. She let out a soft sigh as she felt her cheeks, once flushed with excitement, grow bloodless once again. Not today, Ron. Why couldn't he be wonderful again for just one day?

Ron wouldn't look at them. "Oh, remembered me, have you?" he said.

"What?"

Ron snorted as he stared up at the underside of the upper bunk. "You two carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."

Harry looked to Hermione for help, but she shook her head, rather lost herself. Ron yelling and raging was one thing; Ron feigning indifference was a hippogriff of a different color. The only other time he had done that was once upon a time and long ago, when she had dropped down next to them in a beautiful set of periwinkle robes, flushed from having danced for hours with Viktor Krum. Her stomach clenched with foreboding. This wasn't going to end well.

"What's the problem?" asked Harry.

"Problem? There's no problem," said Ron. "Not according to you, anyway."

While Harry demanded for Ron to say what was bothering him, Hermione stepped behind him so he couldn't see her shake her head vigorously at Ron. Now really wasn't the time to fill him in on all of their clandestine conversations.

He ignored her, swung his long legs off the bed, and sat up. "All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know." He wore that same hard, unnatural look that had troubled Hermione for ages. Hermione bit her lip and hid her face. She had hoped Harry had never had to see that face.

As she expected, Harry looked horrified and furious, but not a bit surprised. "I don't know?" repeated Harry. "I don't know?"

"It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here," said Ron, "you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

"Ron," Hermione said weakly, trying to think of something she could do or say that would avoid disaster, but that seemed inevitable now. It actually had been inevitable for quite some time.

"I thought you knew what you'd signed up for," said Harry.

"Yeah, I thought I did too."

"So what part of it isn't living up to your expectations?" Harry returned. The shock of the conversation had worn off, and now Hermione could see that he was really starting to get angry. "Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you'd be back to Mummy by Christmas?"

She flinched visibly; Ron actually did think that.

Ron jumped to his feet. "We thought you knew what you were doing! We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

"Ron!" Hermione couldn't help shouting, beyond appalled. No one, no matter what he wore around his neck, should ever talk to his best friend like that, especially a friend who had done so much for them as Harry had. Harry was a little lost right now, but they all were. They couldn't blame each other for their inability to move forward.

Harry looked as though he had just been slapped in the face. He had to take a moment before speaking again, and when he did, his voice calm, even though Hermione could see that something had just died inside of him. "Well, sorry to let you down. I've been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux--"

"Yeah, and we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them--nowhere effing near, in other words!"

If Ron was saying 'effing' instead of the actual word that he so colorfully used on various other occasions, something had to be horribly wrong. Just as Ron had feigned indifference before plunging into the fight, if he was censoring his language, worse words were due at any moment. If she had thought what he had just said was vicious, she couldn't imagine what was to come. She stepped forward with her hand outstretched. "Take off the locket, Ron," Hermione said, her voice unusually high. "Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."

It had worked before, and it might have worked again, but Harry was already intervening, voice cold and unfriendly, as unrecognizable as Ron's. "Yeah, he would," said Harry. "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"

Something kicked Hermione had in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She had lost Harry now too. "Harry, we weren't--"

"Don't lie!" Ron wheeled on her, eyes blazing. In all of their rows and arguments, even the ones they had been having over the past few weeks, he had never given her such a look of contempt. This wasn't a row anymore; this was a fight, a fight that wouldn't be absolved without severe casualties. "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than--"

"I didn't say it like that--" Hermione shot at him, starting to get angry herself. That was a private conversation and if he was going to supposedly quote her, he should at least do it correctly. But there was no time to shout at Ron; Harry was rapidly becoming paler by the second so she quickly turned to appease him. "Harry, I didn't!"

But Harry was only glaring at Ron. He either believed her or would be dealing with her later. "So why are you still here?"

"Search me," bit out Ron.

"Go home then," said Harry.

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Don't, she screamed silently at Harry, afraid to say a word aloud again. Ron didn't need any more incentive to abandon them. Harry didn't know it, but Ron already had plenty.

"Yeah, maybe I will!" Ron took several steps toward Harry, who did not back away. Heart thumping, Hermione slipped her wand in her hand; for the first time ever, she seriously thought the two best mates would use physical violence against each other. "Didn't you hear what they said about my sister? But you don't give a rat's fart, do you..."

You know that's not true, Hermione yelled internally at him. The only reason Ron hadn't exploded at the prospect of Harry dating Ginny was that he knew that Harry would care for her, that he'd die before letting any harm come her way. His confidence had been briefly shaken when Harry and Ginny had ended things, but quickly regained when he confronted Harry about it. But perhaps it hadn't been completely restored.

"...it's only the Forbidden Forest, Harry I've-Faced-Worse Potter doesn't care what happens to her in here--well, I do, all right, giant spiders and mental stuff--"

They were with Hagrid, Hermione reminded him. Hagrid would do anything to protect them.

Harry clearly felt the same way: "I was only saying--she was with the others, they were with Hagrid--"

"Yeah, I get it, you don't care! And what about the rest of my family, 'the Weasleys don't need another kid injured,' did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I--"

"Not bothered what it meant, though?"

"Ron!" said Hermione, forcing her way between them, pushing Ron a few steps backwards and keeping her hand on his arm. For the first time, hope shone in her eyes. Now she knew what this was about : Ron was worried about his family; he always was and what they had just overheard had pushed him over the edge so as usual, he had started lashing out at them; he really didn't mean any of the hurtful words he was screaming at them; he was just upset; he just needed to be reassured that his family was safe. This she could deal with; she could fix this.

It was one of the hardest things she ever had to do, but she made her voice as calm and rational as possible, as if she was explaining the different intricate steps of a complicated spell. "I don't think it means anything new has happened, anything we don't know about; think, Ron, Bill's already scarred, plenty of people must have seen that George lost an ear by now, and you're supposed to be on your deathbed with spattergroit, I'm sure that's all he meant--"

"Oh, you're sure, are you?" Ron sneered as he wrenched his arm free. "Right then, well, I won't bother myself about them. It's all right for you two, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way--"

Hermione's sudden flash of anger nearly knocked her off of her feet. He wouldn't dare bring her parents into this mess, not when he knew perfectly well everything she had went through--what they had went through--to get them to safety. And Harry, poor Harry--

"My parents are dead!"

"And mine could be going the same way!"

"Then GO!" roared Harry. "Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and--"

Hermione knew what Ron was going to do a second before he even did. She raised her wand, screamed 'Protego!' , and was knocked back a few steps from the surprising force of her protection shield. She tightened her grip to keep the shield active just in case Ron or Harry tried anything stupid. The two only glared at each other from either side of the transparent barrier, but it was enough to cause Hermione's heart to burst with a palpable spasm of hopelessness. There was no hope of reconciliation; the trio had officially died.

"Leave the Horcrux."

She wanted to do nothing but scream and shout and cry, but once again, damn it, she couldn't. She had to stay still and focused to keep the protection shield up; she wouldn't put it past Ron to try something. Ron wrenched the chain from over his head and cast the locket into a nearby chair. He turned to her expectantly. "What are you doing?"

Clearly, she was enacting a protection shield, but Hermione knew that wasn't the answer he was expecting. "What do you mean?"

"Are you staying, or what?"

Dolohov's wretched spasms were pounding away at her ribs, but Hermione ignored it so she could read the invitation to Australia in his eyes. He was still willing to whisk her away from this hell at a moment's notice. He still wanted to save her. Hermione's hand went to her breaking heart. "I...yes--yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help--"

The very same anguished look he had had when she had rejected his earlier offer passed over his face as he backed away, more determined than ever to never speak to these two again. "I get it. You choose him."

BAM. Sudden knowledge burst inside of Hermione so that she went weak in the knees and very nearly collapsed. Ron was storming out of the tent, but he was also inside of her memory, giving her every look she hadn't been able to place, relieving every moment he had exploded for apparently no reason, every time he looked hurt or injured, shouting every foul thought that had been enhanced by the Horcrux's power--oh God, that kiss, when he had tried to kiss her and she had jerked away and said Harry's name--that's what he thought she meant. This was all a mistake. A very sickening, world-shattering mistake: he actually thought that Rita Skeeter was right all along, that she and Harry--

"Ron, no--please--come back, come back!" She was impeded by her own Shield Charm so by the time she had removed it, he had already stormed into the night. Hermione sprinted after him, not caring about the rain she hadn't realized had been falling, sobbing and calling his name. This was so stupid--the idea of her and Harry--ridiculous--but fixable, she could fix this now, they knew the thoughts that the Horcrux was amplifying so all they had to do was convince Ron that his suspicions were completely unfounded, that she was in love with her other best friend, and then everything would be fine--well, not completely fine as they still didn't know how to find the Horcruxes, but at least it would be better--Ron would be normal and wonderful again--he could fight the Horcrux's power--she knew he could--she just had to help him a bit--

He was almost at the perimeter of the protection spells; in a few steps he would be able to Apparate and there would be no way she could trace his whereabouts. She'd lose him forever. "Ron, please!" she screamed as loudly as she could, not bothering to hide anything from him. She'd even swallow all of her fears and tell him how much she loved him if it meant he stayed by their side. "Ron!"

Ron never turned. He stuck his wand behind him and fired. A quick Trip Jinx knocked Hermione off of her feet so she pitched face-first into the slick leaves and cold mud. By the time she lifted her head, he was long gone, probably never to be seen again.

**

Hermione dropped off to sleep at around five o'clock in the morning, but she jerked awake only twenty minutes later after sensing that she was falling into a dream that featured a certain tall red-head. Not being able to bear seeing his face, Hermione pushed the blankets that Harry had thrown on her. Harry had given her Ron's blankets; they were bathed in his scent. No wonder she had been dreaming about him.

It was still pitch-black outside, but Hermione still slipped out of the tent anyway, taking care not to wake Harry. The heavy rain instantly soaked her, but she couldn't care less. Illuminating the tip of her wand, Hermione returned to the last place she had seen Ron in hopes that he had returned, but had been unable to find the tent for whatever reasons. She knelt down into the mud to see if she could find some footprints to indicate his return. But the ground was slick and clear; if Ron had come back, his tracks would have been washed away by the perpetual rain. She lifted her wand so she could murmur 'Homenum revelio.' The tip of her wand quickly twitched towards the tent, sensing Harry's presence. It made no further movements. She and Harry were the only two people around for miles. He really hadn't come back.

For several minutes, Hermione just stood in the rain, infinitely lost. She had been so sure Ron would have returned by morning, once he had distanced himself from the Horcrux's power and came back to his senses. This was Ron. No matter what he did or how angry he was with them or how horrible he felt, he always, always came through for those he cared about. It went against his very nature to abandon his friends. But maybe he had changed; she had sensed that he was changing, even before they had the Horcrux in his possession. Maybe he no longer wanted to be there with him. Maybe he wanted to go back to Hogwarts and snog Lavender to his heart's content. Maybe that was the change that had happened; maybe while reading Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches his affections had switched back to his first girlfriend. Maybe he found her repulsive, so repulsive that he would be willing to risk life and limb by going off by himself.

No, she reminded herself as she finally returned to the tent so she could change into fresh clothes and dry herself off. She knew the real reason he had left. He thought she and Harry--Ron, how could you be so stupid, she thought despondently at him. How could he not know what was happening between them, what had always been happening between them, from the first moment they had met six and half years ago. That's how she knew it was something really remarkable and rare and beautiful. Her heart had known it the first second she saw him, even if it took her mind a few years to catch up. Her lip was starting to tremble again. How was she supposed to do this--how was she supposed to get through the most dangerous challenge of her life without him?

In a daze, Hermione started preparing some breakfast from the leftover fish they had for dinner, the fish that Ron had been complaining about before Harry had overheard Dean and the others. She'd give anything to hear him moan and groan about their food supplies now.

Alerted by the clanking of the dishes, Harry rolled out of his bunk, keeping his eyes very far away from Ron's empty bunk. She couldn't say good morning to him; the sight of Ron's bed had pushed a huge, hot lump back into her throat. She closed her eyes and tried to envision where Ron was sleeping right now, under a gnarled tree, shivering in the cold, or perhaps already back at the Burrow, curled up in a warm, snug bed while the ghoul howled its discontent from the attic. But in all of the scenarios that Hermione concocted them, not one of them included Ron making his way back to them. She had to wipe her face to keep the tears from sliding into their breakfast. He really was gone.

They took forever getting ready, both of them not wanting to go, because once they did, there was no hope of Ron's return. He would never be able to find where they Apparated, and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to see them due to all of the protective charms. To give her an excuse to stay, Hermione unpacked everything in her beaded bag and reorganized them; her books had become dreadfully out of order. Her hand shook as she picked up a thin black book that had been so amusing her to her ages ago. It was probably the only book Ron had read this past summer. She turned it over and over in her hand. That was so long ago. They had all changed so much; they had all grown up. And, as she had feared, one of them had actually grown away from them.

Harry knelt down next to her; Hermione hastily stuck the book into her bag. "Hermione," he said quietly, not needing to continue.

She nodded tearfully. They couldn't stay here any longer. Hermione moved her legs and slowly as possible, glancing around at every small sound and all of the imaginary ones, waiting for a fast thud of footprints and Ron's voice bellowing 'wait, wait, wait!' Ron couldn't really leave them. He had to come back, he had to...

Harry held out his hand, gaze hollow and desolate, but still angry as hell. Hermione took one last look around the riverbank. Last chance, Ron, last chance...

She placed her hand in Harry's and Disapparated, appearing on a windswept heather-covered hillside. It wasn't raining here, but Hermione had never felt colder. She pulled free of Harry's grasp and walked as fast as she could away from him, away from everything, the Dolohov-palpitations attacking with fresh vigor. This was all her fault. She should have realized what was happening to him; this was Ron. She knew everything about Ron. He certainly knew everything about her. It was only fair that she return the favor. She was the only one who could have pulled Ron out of the Horcrux-induced fury he had been trapped in for so long and she hadn't; she had instead pulled away; Ron would have fought to save her; Ron wouldn't have given up; she had given up; she had betrayed Ron; it was all her fault--

She collapsed onto a large rock and dropped her head on her knees so she could give in to the sobs. Harry was moving around her, casting all of the appropriate charms that she usually tended to, but she couldn't even manage to Levitate a feather right now. She wrapped her arms around her legs very tightly, wanting to be as tiny as she could so she could sink into the strands of heather and disappear just like Ron had, never to be seen again. Losing her parents had been one thing, but losing her heart--her aching heart--you couldn't survive without your heart--you were gone, just as if you had Disapparated in the midst of a dark and stormy night, and there was a very good chance you'd never be able to find yourself ever again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to her knees, apologizing not to herself, and certainly not to Ron, but to Harry, because he hadn't lost only one best friend last night: he had lost her as well.